


Hell on Earth

by Kalpana



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Buddhist legends, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Developing Friendships, Early Days, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Historical Inaccuracy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Original Character Death(s), Other, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Violence, emperor asoka, indian history and legends, mauryan empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalpana/pseuds/Kalpana
Summary: Beelzebub prepared for Armageddon by learning from the best warriors: humans. One of those great warriors had been Emperor Chandragupta in the 4th C BCE. She dispatched Crawly to India so that they kept and eye on him, because Hell had great expectations about his grandson Asoka. As Crawly would soon discover, so did Heaven, much to his and Aziraphale's surprise. Thanks to Crawly's excellent work as usual, Beelzebub's dear Asoka became Emperor, and was known as Chandasoka, Asoka the Terrible, because of his love of bloodshed. However, in order to become emperor, he had spared his younger brother, and entire armies started surrendering to him without a fight. It was highly indicative of some Heavenly influence. Just when the Prince of Hell felt that something was off, Asoka had been demonically possessed with the idea of a torture chamber. She had to materialize and see it with her own eyes. Also, Crawly surely deserved a commendation for her outstanding work.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019





	1. Before Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always found Asoka's story fascinating. From killing thousands in battle to becoming a vegetarian Buddhist who banned even animal slaughter in the capital, and who planted trees to give shade in the highways of his empire, the largest and most peaceful in Indian history. Could Crowley (then, still Crawly) and Aziraphale stay away from it all? I really doubt it.

Crawly was grateful that humans didn’t need much encouragement to do evil — he focused on creating _opportunity_ , a much easier job. Babylon offered a great potential for such creative endeavour. For instance, he could mess with the sums written in clay tablets humans had been recently making to record business dealings. He was about to tamper with some of such sums, when the cuneiform letters changed magically into sigils. The new message read:

‘Hail Satan! This is the Prince of Hell speaking to Demon Crawly. We have a mission for you. As you know, there’s a lot going on in Europe and Asia Minor nowadays. Heaven’s really busy with the Greeks, Macedons, Gauls, Egyptians... In fact, they are completely disregarding most of the world. Let their heavenly policy be their undoing. This is our chance to make an impact on some very important places. I’m sending you to India. Greek king Seleucus is marrying his daughter to an Indian ruler. Your instructions are to infiltrate the marriage party and stay at the Indian court to influence their politics. This ruler, Chandragupta, has proved to be an ambitious warrior. Soon he’ll have the entire subcontinent under his heel. Make sure he does. I bet you’ll work undisturbed for centuries. Get in touch with us once you get there.’

‘Ngk’, Crawly grimaced. He was weary to make such a long trip. Moreover, life in Babylon was good. The sigils turned again into the old letters about copper ingots and money. He erased them completely with a swift hand move. The next day for sure some of the buyers would come complaining that they were tricked, and there wouldn’t be any records of the sale at all to protect the greedy merchant. They would all feel cheated and frustrated, and so would other business men, fearing that something similar could happen to them, and their families, on whom they would take out the frustration accumulated during the day. Perfect!

Well, if he had to leave, better to start the journey as soon as possible, he thought. He made a black veil appear, draped it over her head, and headed for Seleucus’ palace. She had to persuade his daughter that she, Crawly, was her favourite maid and friend from childhood, who was accompanying her to India. Nothing a demonic miracle couldn’t do.

***

It had been a long and bumpy journey — although what made Crawly really exhausted wasn’t the roughness of the horse carriage, nor the heat and dust from the road, but the princess’ continuous litany of complaints. When they finally arrived at the agreed location for the exchange of the princess for 500 elephants, the complaints became even more annoying excited tears of happiness. That Chandragupta fellow wasn’t a bad looking one – tall, dark and handsome, as the saying went. He was immediately smitten by the fair princess, although he spared a look to her also fair and red-haired attendant.

The journey to the king’s capital was even longer. Pataliputra seemed to be at the end of the world. Crawly wondered how God managed to make Earth smaller from the outside. It seemed like a speck of dust from space. Once you were on it, however, it seemed endless. The longest distance Crawly was generally eager to travel was the one to the nearest wine seller. To make things worse, they didn’t have wine in India. Fortunately, her princess was equally appalled when she discovered the lack of wine, olives and cheese. Crawly would miracle an amphora of wine from time to time, to the delight of her princess, and then proceed to tell her wild stories about how she had managed to buy it from a Greek soldier, merchant, adventurer or ambassador that she had happened to meet in the King’s palace. The princess — who had been given a new Indian name upon being made queen, Durdhara — always listened to the stories attentively, giggling but never missing a drop of wine. 

She was sure her maid didn’t tell the whole truth, but weren't the stories fun! She invariably concluded that, whether the stories were real or not, the wine at least was.

Chandragupta had a lot going on. He had created an empire where there was none, uniting countries from one side of the Indian Ocean to the other and all in between, under the rule of his sword. A lot of the credit was due to Chanakya, his intelligent chief minister. Together, they had formed a professional army of 600.000 soldiers, equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry and thousands of very impressive elephants. After crushing countries with their armies and elephants, their administrative clerks would come in to conquer the people’s minds and hearts with bureaucracy. Everything ran smoothly, though. Much better than in Hell. They even had an office devoted to the caring of the foreigners who travelled to the Empire. And among the flock of foreigners arriving at Pataliputra, one of them stood out. Crawly was just coming back from her morning bath when she overheard two young maids gossiping heartily.

‘Have you heard of the newcomer? His face is like the moon!’

‘His hair is like malai cream!’

‘I’ve never seen anyone so handsome!’

‘Where do you think he comes from?’

‘From some very cold country. Maybe from Mount Kailash itself?’

‘The Queen is almost as fair as he is, I tell you!’

‘Oh, we must find sister Crawly and ask her! She’s a foreigner after all, she has seen distant lands, she might know!’

‘Great idea, my dear friend. Let’s find her and ask her!’

Covering her head with the towel, Crawly rushed inside her Queen’s quarters. She would deal with the curious girls later. Their description of the foreigner was enough for her to know that he was no other than Aziraphale.

Damn, she thought. She was having such a good time playing with the maids, hiding their jewels and cosmetics, making Durdhara drink wine, putting lustful thoughts on the girls’ minds. Now that Aziraphale was here, she would actually have to do something!

“You’ll work undisturbed for centuries,” Beelzebub had said. Crawly laughed.

‘Crawly, Crawly, dear!’, she heard Durdhara’s voice approaching. The door opened violently, ‘Oh, here you are! Haven’t you heard the news?’

‘What news? What could have happened while I took my morning bath?’ Crawly asked, trying not to give away her mental state.

‘You always take such long baths, darling!’ the queen teased her with a bright smile. ‘A handsome foreigner has arrived in the city. He’s like no other I have ever heard of!’

‘What are you doing paying attention to some weird stranger’s charms? You’re married! And very pregnant, I must remind you!’ Crawly said, astonished to hear her own voice advocating against adultery.

‘So what? Everyone is talking about him. I wish my husband would invite him to court. He must come from very distant lands! Surely he can provide many entertaining stories for this evening. I’ll go ask him immediately,’ Durdhara said, and rushed out just like she had rushed in. Crawly sighed, and followed.

‘Wait! I’m coming!’

‘Hurry up! The king must be having his breakfast. He will see me now.’

Crossing the palace like a whirlwind, they arrived at the King’s room where he was indeed about to take his breakfast.

‘Is that you, Chanakya?’, the king asked, still yawning.

‘No, it’s your dearest queen Durdhara. And her maid’, she added.

‘Oh, dear lady, how are you? Please come in. Have you eaten yet? Join me for my breakfast.’ The queen bowed and sat beside him on the floor. Crawly sat in a corner, taking care to tuck the long end of her saree around her hair. She didn’t want the king stealing glances at her with Durdhara present.

‘I’ve had my breakfast already, your Majesty. But I’d eat a bit again, you know, for our child. I think he’s hungry,’ she teased. Chandragupta looked proudly and lovingly at her belly. Soon, a son would be born to him, and he could die in peace. He took some food from his plate and transferred it to a clean one that he handed his queen.

‘Eat, both of you,’ he said smiling. ‘When are you due? Soon, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, my Lord. In a week, the doctors have said. But I didn’t come here only to tell you something you already know and steal your breakfast.’

The king laughed, ‘Oh, I thought you had come only to enjoy my company for a change! But tell me, what did you really come here for?’

‘I’ve something to ask you,’ she started. ‘I’ve heard a traveller from far away lands has come to your city. Everyone is speaking about him. My King, I am your Queen, I can’t stand talking about him just like everyone else. I want to speak _to_ him.’

‘You’ve got a point,’ the king admitted, amused.

‘I want you to invite him to your evening audience today. I’ll be there beside you. I want you to ask him about his origins and travels. If half of the things said about him are true, I bet he will delight you with wondrous stories.’

‘As you wish, my dear lady,’ the king said. ‘You seem to be very interested in this foreigner! You have just talked about him, not eating a thing! Should I be jealous?’

The queen laughed, took a morsel of bread and lentils with her right hand and ate it.

‘NO! Stop!’, a loud cry came from the entrance. At the door, Chanakya stood, horrified.

‘Chanakya! What happened?’, asked the king. Before he could say more, the queen collapsed on his lap. ‘Durdhara dear! What’s wrong? Are you ok? Chanakya! Doctors!’ Chandragupta’s face turned white with worry and fear.

‘No, no, no, no… Why did you have to give her your food?’ Chanakya asked, losing his temper. ‘There are attendants to feed the Queen, it isn’t your duty!’

‘What’s wrong? She just ate a bit, and suddenly…’ the king couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘Every morning, since you were a child, I put some poison in your food in order to build your immunity and prevent any murder attempts from succeeding. By now, the dose is strong enough to kill a grown up male, but it’s nothing to you. Just a little is enough to kill a woman.’ Chanakya explained, his voice drowned in regret. ‘I’ve never told anyone, not even you, so that enemies of the empire wouldn’t resort to other means of killing you. She has but minutes left. We must save the child.’

The king started crying helplessly. It was horrible to look at.

‘You, maid!’ Chanakya shouted to Crawly, who was cowering in a corner. ‘Go and call the doctors, fast!’ Glad of having something to do, she ran through the palace until she gathered every single doctor there was into the King’s room.

When the doctors arrived, Chanakya explained the situation briefly. They drafted a plan: to behead Durdhara, open her belly up and take the child. A week earlier wouldn’t do much harm, the doctors sentenced.

Crawly was shocked. How could anyone dare to cut up her queen like that? Men! They would chop a woman to pieces with no second thoughts. Chanakya already had a knife in his hand.

‘Stop!’ she shouted, and froze everyone in the room. She walked towards the queen. She was loath to admit Chanakya had been right. Durdhara was gone. She could still save the child. Taking Chanakya’s knife from his hand — if anyone was going to cut the queen, it would be her personal attendant — she slashed a T in her belly. She took the child, made him breathe, and cleaned him with the long end of her black saree. Once the baby stopped crying, she unfroze time.

‘Here, revered sir Chanakya. You have saved the child,’ she said ceremoniously, presenting him the baby. Crawly realised too late she had missed a drop of blood on the child’s forehead.

‘You shall be named Bindusara, and you will be king,’ said the minister, taking the child. He didn’t understand what had happened but was glad that the child was alive. Chandragupta got up and took his son, who started crying again, scared of so many people surrounding him.

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/qCDvuGU.png)

Little Bindusara grew up mostly in the women’s quarters. His father, the king, took to battle and conquest after the death of his wife and was hardly ever at home. Crawly, left with no one to attend to, turned to hairdressing. She became the one every woman — and some men — went to to have their hair done. She learnt all the different uses of hair oils, developed a technique to curl straight hair and straighten curly hair that worked like magic — although she never said that magic was involved, everyone shared the opinion — and made henna popular: all women dreamed of having red hair like hers.

While Bindusara learnt from Chanakya to grasp the basics of state administration, diplomacy and war faring, he also learnt from the women to manipulate the human heart with a movement of the brows and how to sweet talk even the chief minister into allowing him whatever he wanted. From Crawly in particular, Bindusara learnt how to braid a woman’s hair, how to turn people against each other for one’s own advantage, and that women shouldn’t be cut up for no reason whatsoever — if such a situation ever arose in which a woman needed to be cut up, Crawly herself should be called to do the cutting. As a result, the boy understood women very well. As soon as he reached his teens, he would have all of them swooning over him, she was sure.

Crawly had thus been busy — but she had kept an eye on the pale foreigner who wasn’t a newcomer anymore. Aziraphale had stuck around for so long that he stopped raising eyebrows. He still made people gossip: everyone wanted to know if he was a vegetarian or not. People called him Gora, because of his fair skin, or Mleccha, because he was a foreigner, but recently he earned the nickname Madhukara (honeybee), because he could be found any evening around the sweet shops of Pataliputra, trying whatever new sweetmeat was available. The owners of the sweet shops constantly squeezed their brains to create new sweets to make sure that Aziraphale would come by their shop and spend scandalous amounts of money on their businesses. Aziraphale, naturally, had no idea that this type of competition existed and merely thought humans to be pleasingly inventive. Crawly found it interesting, although she was more for spicy food.

Only then, when Aziraphale had become a fixture in the city, albeit an exotic one, she decided it was about time to reveal her presence to the angel. Wrapping her fair skin and red hair in her ever black saree, she waited for the evening to darken before leaving the palace and going to the sweet shops’ quarters. Most of them closed late, serving one last cup of hot milk to their clients before they went to sleep. Crawly saw the figure of a man whose white clothes were spotless, the fabric evidently richer than anyone else’s clothes, jewels embroidered in the shawl. It had to be him, standing over one of the shops’ counters and relishing the sweet he was tasting, if the look on his angelic face was anything to go by.

‘I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth,’ Crawly whispered to Aziraphale’s left ear.

‘Agh!’, Aziraphale choked, startled. Crawly patted his back while he coughed, trying to recover his breath.

‘Aren’t you easy to scare?’ Crawly said.

‘You… What are you doing here? And why did you have to startle me like that? I was eating!’ said the angel.

‘Don’t be so insensitive. I came to say hi,’ she said grinning. ‘I thought maybe you missed me.’

‘What? Why would I miss a demon?’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, but now that you mention it....’, she teased.

Aziraphale looked at her bewildered. ‘What did you mean then?’ he asked.

‘Leave it, angel. These shops will close soon. If you’re done with your dessert, we can go get some main course. Do you like spicy food?’

‘It’s a bit hard on the stomach, these spices. Indigestion… It's no fun. Have you had it?’ Aziraphale whispered the last question with embarrassment painted on his face.

‘Ok, we can get a non-spicy vegetarian fare for you,’ Crawly said. ‘That should put an end to the gossip that consumes this city.’

‘Gossip? What gossip?’

Crawly grabbed the angel’s plump arm and pulled him away from the shop, into the narrow streets.

‘Wait! I have to pay!’

‘No need. They know you’ll come tomorrow.’

The angel let the demon lead him along the labyrinthine streets of Pataliputra.

***

As the evening got darker, the streets got narrower and dirtier. Aziraphale sniffed danger. He wouldn’t have dared to walk around these streets at night alone.

Crawly stopped before a door. Despite the dark, she could see the look of perfect apprehension in the face of the angel. She thought of something soothing to say.

‘You’re with a demon, don’t worry,’ was all she could come up with.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Maybe she should have kept quiet.

‘In this area no one will ask questions about a woman being out at night. Come on, let’s go.’ she opened the door and pushed the angel in.

The place looked like a restaurant. There were people eating on the floor with sumptuous servings of a variety of foods on palm leaves. Two curtains at the back from which men came in and out, gave away a different kind of business.

‘Come, let’s sit here on this corner,’ Crawly said. Aziraphale followed, if only because she was still pulling his arm. As soon as they sat down, a beautiful waitress came to lay green palm leaves at their feet and to take their order.

‘What do you have in vegetarian?’ Crawly asked.

‘Erm… We have some lentils, peas and atta bread,’ the girl said. Normally people came in asking for meat. Normally, if any man brought a woman, she wouldn’t speak. 

‘That’ll do. For two. Do you have sura?’

‘Yes, sura, and neera too. Just arrived from the south,’ she replied.

‘Neera then. It’s been years since I had it. You’ll like it, angel.’

‘What’s neera?’

‘Palm wine. Here it comes.’ The girl brought a jug of palm wine and two glasses and laid them on the palm leaves.

‘They use palm for everything, don’t they?’ the angel said, musing.

‘A fine plant,’ Crawly smiled, taking the jug and pouring its content on both glasses.

‘Why have you brought me here?’ Aziraphale asked, emphasizing the “here” part, while looking around suspiciously.

‘Stop what you’re doing. You’re making humans uncomfortable. Relax. This place is for the purpose God made humans for. Propagate. Remember?’

‘Don’t be silly, I know how this place works. There is no propagation of anything but diseases.’

‘Well, aren’t viruses and bacteria Her Creation? You’re being narrow-minded,’ Crawly said. ‘Drink. To Earth.’

‘Hmp,’ Aziraphale replied, but he took the glass and drank the palm wine. ‘I prefer the other wine.’ He sighed.

‘It’s been some time,’ said the demon, making made a gesture over the glasses and the neera. It immediately transformed into a red grape wine.

Aziraphale looked happily into the new contents of his glass. ‘That’s better’, he said, and gulped the wine down. ‘I haven’t had any since I arrived in India.’

‘How long have you been here?’ Crawly asked casually.

‘Oh, about eight years, roughly. I left for some business in Europe for a few years but came back.’ Aziraphale said. ‘This Chandragupta fellow, you know. That’s why I was sent here.’

‘Really?’

The waitress arrived with the food, interrupting their conversation. She kneeled to serve bread, lentils and peas on each of the palm leaves. She had lovely long black hair, Crawly thought. She could make a couple of braids here and tie them in a bun and…

‘Hmmm! This is better than I expected!’, Crawly heard the angel say. He had started eating while she was enthralled with the girl’s hair. She turned her face back to him and smiled.

‘So, you’re a real vegetarian, aren’t you? You were telling me about Chandragupta.’

‘Oh, yes. The king, he,’ Aziraphale stopped to drink some more wine. Crawly refilled his glass miraculously without the angel noticing. ‘He’s really into war, you know? Going around the subcontinent and conquering every little harmless village. This land is huge, but he may manage to unite it all under one single rule: his.’

‘And, is that so bad that you have been sent here?’

‘Well, the administration is efficient, the government runs smoothly, and citizens get services, protection and a fair tax system but… there is all that stuff with the conquering and the killing. Couldn’t he just ask them to surrender beforehand?’

‘Have you tried telling him that?` asked Crawly.

‘Oh, I tried. Once. I got an audience with the king. But he started asking me about religion, about afterlife, and he told me a gruesome story about his dead wife…’ Aziraphale’s voice clearly expressed his disgust. ‘He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.’

Crawly stared at him. She had very hard tried not to think of Durdhara since the fateful day. How life mocked her! She took a liking to a human, then she died unfairly and untimely the same day Aziraphale arrived to the city and she was now, after all those years, drinking wine again but not with the human she used to like drinking wine with, but with the very same angel who, indirectly, had caused her death. And he was there talking about it, about the king’s terrible grief, about politics and cuisine and clothes and wine, totally oblivious, completely unaware of how silly, naive and… happy he was. Aziraphale had been speaking non-stop for about an hour and her food had disappeared from her palm leaf before she had a chance to even touch it. She realised the angel was beaming. He was clearly enjoying her company.

‘… and I told them: “the slaughter of any living being is wrong”, and “all types of violent actions should be avoided”, and also “it is very important not to lie, although language sometimes makes knowing the truth difficult”, and they started jumping and shouting, saying that Mahavira had said the same things, and that I had to speak with their master and join their community and get rid of my clothes…’ Aziraphale was saying, gesturing enthusiastically.

Crawly noticed the room was empty. Only the waitress was sitting in a corner, dozing off.

‘Angel, they need to close the restaurant. Look at the poor girl. We can continue inside. I’ll take the jug,’ she said.

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale, startled by the interruption, suddenly took notice of his surroundings. ‘Oh! Poor girl. Sure, let’s go inside, I’m not tired yet. It’s been so long since I really talked to anyone...’ his voice turned a little dreamy.

While Crawly took the jug – conveniently refilled with red wine -, Aziraphale took the glasses. They went in through one of the back curtains. No one had entered or left for some time. They arrived at an open patio. On the sides there were several rooms, their entrances covered by more curtains. Crawly quickly surveyed some of them until she found an empty one.

‘Here,’ she said, entering the room. Aziraphale followed, eager to continue his very one-sided conversation.

Inside the room, there was a charpoy and a long cloth to use as a blanket. A tiny oil lamp was hanging from the wall. Crawly lit it up with a snap of her fingers. The fact that it didn’t contain any oil didn’t dim the flame in the slightest. They sat on the charpoy. Aziraphale extended the glasses for Crawly to fill up. He had got the thread of his previous speech.

‘So they told me that what I was saying was exactly what their Mahavira had said, and I said no, it’s God saying it, and they were surprised at first but then started debating it, I can tell you it was unbearable having to stand there in the heat for so long...’ Aziraphale was unleashed.

Crawly set the jug on the floor and drank her wine looking at the angel speak, since she wasn’t actually listening. She was starting to understand why the angel looked so happy. How long had he said he had been at Pataliputra? 8 years? Where had he been before? Surely he didn’t have a Durdhara to attend to and whose company to enjoy. It had been tough for her at times too, but it was really difficult to feel lonely surrounded by other women who looked up at her as their older sister and to whom they came for all kinds of advice, apart from doing their hair. The angel was, instead, talking precisely about how unhappy his interactions with humans made him. She could suggest him to change his colour scheme, or wear a sari for a change, people would interact with him differently. But, why to interrupt? She would rather keep listening to the angel’s voice, but in a more comfortable position. As she lay down on the charpoy, her head brushed Aziraphale’s leg. He didn’t flinch. Had his voice quivered for a second? Maybe she imagined it after all, because he continued as before.

Listening to the angel’s voice, Crawly softly fell asleep.

***

Despite the angel’s efforts, Chandragupta soon managed to unite most of the subcontinent under his rule, effectively creating the Mauryan empire. Both Crawly and Aziraphale sent reports to their respective Head Offices. Aziraphale called it a success, his main argument being how happy and peaceful the subcontinent now was, how people’s lives had improved, the bright future of lawful order that would surely follow. Crawly, ignoring all the points the angel stressed in his report, called it a success and gave grisly descriptions of the killings and pointed out how the constant battling had made people’s lives miserable. Both of them overplayed their role in the matter, as if they had been Chanakya himself.

Up to Kandahar in the west, to Mysuru in the south and to Kalinga in the east, everything under the sky was Mauryan. However, the conquests hadn’t come easy. The destruction of the land and the slaughter of people created a shortage of agricultural land and farmhands, resulting in a severe famine that lasted years. Chandragupta managed to hold his empire together, but his worldview changed affected by the misery he witnessed. Still, it came as a surprise to everyone when, being still young, he abdicated in favour of his son Bindusara, who was only 8 years old. The emperor abandoned all his properties and joined a Jain community, never to be seen again.

The son was quite different from his father. Crawly’s forecasts about Bindusara’s womanizing future had been spot on. By the age of 15 he had already married a beautiful princess who was mad about him, and had several other girls waiting in line hoping to become their future second, third and so on wives. And they did. Soon enough, he had dozens of children running around the palace grounds. 

His latest wife was a brahmin girl who was not only beautiful, but also very skilled in hairdressing — a strong contender to Crawly’s previously uncontested place as chief hairstylist. She admired that a human could have such deft fingers without magic being involved. Shortly after she arrived at the palace, the young king got into the habit of calling the girl, Subhadrangi, to his quarters, to have his hair done. A few months later, they got married, and not as later as it would be expected, she gave birth to two boys.

The palace priests immediately announced their prophecies about the boys. The brahmin said that one of them would be a man of religion and that the other one would kill all his brothers. The buddhist said that one would rule the universe, while the other would live as a recluse and attain spiritual liberation. The ajivika said that one of them would cause great sorrow. In order to dispel any bad luck and assure her sons a happy life, Subhadrangi named the boys Asoka (no sorrow) and Vitasoka (free from sorrow).

Crawly hadn’t paid heed to any of the prophecies. After all, humans had the habit of soothsaying a bunch of different things at the same time — one of them was bound to be correct. That was until she got a message, two years later, from Beelzebub. The message said: “The boy named Asoka has a dark future ahead. We foresee death and misery in his wake. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he inherits the empire”. Crawly took them all very seriously then.

Subhadrangi loved the boys dearly — Bindusara, however, already had many other children to love. Crawly noted that Bindusara, being a lover of beauty, was particularly repulsed by Asoka, who wasn’t exactly what one would call beautiful. He was rough to look at, with bulgy eyes, a crooked nose and a complexion darker than anyone else in the royal family. What he lacked in good looks he had in intelligence and spirit, but his father had never paid much attention to that. Noticing their father’s disdain, all his half-brothers picked on him. Asoka would get in terrible brawls with them, especially with Sushima, the eldest and Bindusara’s favourite son.

Therefore, most of the time the two brothers would be around their mom and Crawly, who had become great friends. They would do each other’s hair while the boys ran around them, playing with wooden swords. Crawly would tell them stories of great warriors of the past and of distant lands: the conquests of their own grandfather, Chandragupta Maurya, but also of Seleucus Nicator, their great-grandfather, of Alexander the Great, Cyrus the Great, Sargon II of Assyria and, of course, the Pandavas at Kurukshetra and Rama and Lakhsmana at Lanka. While Vitasoka would end up dozing off at Crawly’s tales, Asoka always listened until the end with a gleam in his eyes.

Hearing Crawly’s stories made Asoka ambitious. Conscious of his position as prince, he dreamed of becoming a great warrior king, commanding and all-powerful. He resented the way his older half-brothers belittled him, especially Sushima. Whenever he came complaining of his bullies, Crawly would say: “My dear, they will only stop bullying you once you start bullying them” or “if you can’t keep your brothers in line, how are you going to keep your citizens in line once you become king?”, or even “Who is going to be the next king, you or Sushima?”. The truth was that Sushima was a spoiled kid, self-indulgent and cruel. He would make a terrible emperor, Crawly thought. Hell must have got it wrong: she secretly thought Asoka was sound king material.

Her words never failed to incense Asoka’s blood and make him seethe with rage, making the boy highly motivated to win. He trained in all kinds of fighting arts, and soon developed a strong physique. By the time he reached puberty, his brothers had already learnt to know better than to pick on Asoka. If they dared, they made sure adults were around to stop things if they got too heated. Crawly was pleased — and she wasn’t the only one.

Bindusara, who was under pressure to maintain the Mauryan Empire his father had built, usually sent his many sons on different assignments across the empire to ensure everything ran smoothly. Asoka, who by age 18 was quite known for his hot temper and combative nature, was swiftly sent to quell a revolt in the northwestern corner of the empire: Taxila.

A small city near the border with the Grecian kingdom of Seleucus’ lineage, Taxila was then — and would be for a long time — known as a center of knowledge: it was the first university of the world. Taxila’s citizens were proud of what they felt was their uniqueness, and they felt unfairly oppressed by Mauryan officials. However, Bindusara wouldn’t tolerate anything that threatened the integrity of the empire in the slightest. His orders to Ashoka were clear: he was not to return until the rebellious citizens had been crushed.

Asoka’s father assigned him a small army of a thousand men and five hundred horses. The army was not simply for fighting: the emperor's son had an impression to make on his subjects. Everyone who happened to see them had to be awed by their display of power and wealth. However, his older brother Sushima prevented the assigned soldiers from arriving on time, blocking the barricades and shooing away their horses. Since he had been ordered by his father to leave before dawn, Asoka left for Taxila with the few horses and soldiers who had made it, barely more than a hundred.

A month later they arrived in Taxila, ready to crush the revolt. They took the city by surprise in the early morning hours, when everyone was waking up. As soon as warning of the Emperor’s army made it through the city, civilians ran away towards the university grounds, where they kept a warehouse of weapons and their best horses for war faring lessons. Taxilans were more of the academic type — but there were war faring academics among them. Still, by the time Taxilans had organized themselves, half the city had already been ravaged. While they fought, Asoka advanced alone, cutting through the lines, until he wandered off the empty grounds, his men battling behind him. He was curious. He had heard a lot about the place, especially about how Chanakya had taken his grandfather Chandragupta there to learn before becoming emperor. He entered a random building. A man of the fairest complexion he had ever seen stopped him from advancing any further.

‘You will not take another step, son,’ the fair man warned him.

‘Whoever you are, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll kill you,’ Asoka said.

‘Is that really necessary? Killing everyone? You could talk to me and try to convince me to let you in, you know?’

‘What?’

‘I just said, there are more ways of doing things than the way of slaughter,’ the fair man continued. ‘You could, for instance, tell me you are curious about what knowledge is kept in this building, because this is the library by the way, and I would let you in and even help you find what you want to know.’

Nobody had told Asoka that men and women could do his bidding without him beating them up. All the great warriors he admired from Crawly’s stories were great because they killed, not because of their speeches. His men, his own brothers, everyone — except for his mother and Crawly, of course — only obeyed him because they feared he might beat them up.

‘What have you come here for? What do you want to learn?’ the fair man asked again.

Asoka paused for a moment before saying: ‘War.’

‘War? Hm, what about art? Agriculture? Architecture?’

‘I said war, moron. Who are you, a Jain?’ asked Asoka.

‘A Jain, again! Why everyone… No, dear boy, I’m something different, actually...’

‘A Greek?’

‘Well, you could say so...’

‘What’s your name, mleccha?’

‘I’m Aziraphale. And you are?’

‘Asoka Maurya.’

‘Ah, Asoka! I see! I knew your grandfather, you know? Well, I met him once, at Pataliputra,'’ Aziraphale said. ‘Your father was just a little boy then. Ah, I haven’t been there for quite some time! Must be twenty three years now? How is the city? What are the most popular sweets these days? Is Gupta’s still open?’

Asoka hadn’t expected that reply at all. He had hoped to see awe and fear in the face of the fair mleccha, but instead he had started rambling about the best sweet shops in _his_ city.

‘My people are fighting out there. I've got to get back to them’, he said, hoping to get out there.

‘Ah, Mauryas and battle. Now that I’ve met you, I was hoping to speak to you about it,’ Aziraphale continued, breaking from his speech about sweets. ‘It’s important you realise why your grandfather left the throne and converted to Jainism. You weren’t born yet, but there was a famine. A devastating famine. Your grandfather created a great empire, no doubt about it, but in doing so he killed too many people, animals, and destroyed villages and farms. There were no lands to farm, no people set up crops, no harvest. Nothing. Everyone went hungry for years. Even your grandfather. That is why he left. Don’t commit the same mistake. If you kill everyone here in Taxila, if you destroy the university, instead of making the lives of the people of your empire better, you’ll doom them down the line. Stop this silly battle. Talk to Taxilans. Do you even know what they are rising against? Stay and learn. Words are other weapons to fight and win. Negotiate.’

Asoka was impressed.

‘What was your name again, mleccha?’

‘Aziraphale.’

‘Well, Aziraphale, come with me and help me stop this battle you hate so much. Help me persuade the Taxilans to stop their rebellion, and I won’t kill anyone else,’ Asoka’s words made Aziraphale smile. They left the building towards the battlegrounds.

Taxilans were astonished to see the angel, who had been the librarian of the university for years and who was well known in town, by Asoka’s side during the negotiations. That simple fact made them keener to consider the prince’s terms. Also, Asoka threatened them with total annihilation unless they agreed, although he had said so when Aziraphale hadn’t been present. 

***

Crawly and Subhadrangi were anxiously waiting for news from Taxila. When a messenger finally arrived, announcing Asoka’s victory, they accosted him for news beyond the commonplace description of victory. How was the boy? What was he doing? When was he returning?

‘Your Highness, the prince has enrolled in Taxila’s university and he is learning under the guidance of a Greek,’ the messenger explained to them. That assuaged them somehow, but didn’t stop their conjectures. 

When Asoka returned, six months later, the first thing he did was to go to her mother’s quarters, kneel down and ask for forgiveness. Her mother cried holding his head — but Crawly gaped at Aziraphale, who was standing behind Asoka and wiggling nervously.

‘Angel!’ Crawly cried, not sure if she was upset or happy, but definitely surprised.

‘I know his looks are strange, but he’s a human, Crawly. He’s my teacher from Taxila,’ Asoka corrected an embarrassed demon, who actually blushed. ‘Master Aziraphale, this is my mother, Queen Subhadrangi, and her loyal attendant and my second mother, Crawly.”

Now it was Aziraphale who gaped at hearing the phrase “second mother”, and Crawly’s turn to giggle nervously.

‘It’s an honour to meet you, your Majesty,’ Aziraphale said, quickly recovering composure.

‘I’m very pleased to meet my son’s teacher,’ said the queen. ‘May I inquiry what’s your field of expertise?’

‘Oh, I teach a variety of subjects: history, philosophy, music, art, theology…’

‘Really? Are you learning all these subjects, my son? You’ll soon become a minister!’ the queen was delighted.

‘Well, mom, I’m actually studying rethorics with him, but I hope to learn the rest soon.’

‘Rethorics! Do you want to become a politician, Asoka?’

While mother and son chatted away, Crawly and Aziraphale looked at each other silently with a mixture of recognition, suspicion and nostalgia. 

An imperial messenger appeared at the door.

‘Your Highness. Prince Asoka. Emperor Bindusara calls for your presence at the audience hall,’ the young man said ceremoniously.

‘Has anything happened?’ Subhadrangi asked.

‘The Emperor will make an announcement. He has called all his wives and children.’

‘Oh, this must be really important!’ the queen said. ‘Come on, my dear son, let’s go. We’ll continue talking afterwards. Crawly dear, make sure the teacher eats and drinks something. He must be tired from the long trip from Taxila!’ saying this, mother, son and messenger left.

‘Crawly dear?’ asked Aziraphale, amused.

‘Shut up, angel.’

‘I don’t think your Queen would appreciate your being rude, dear Crawly.’ The angel was really enjoying it.

‘Yes, she calls me “dear”, but she also thinks that I'm a human woman just like her,’ Crawly said curtly. ‘You know humans. They bond pretty quickly.’

‘No, I don’t really know, dear. I don’t mix with humans in the way you do.’

‘You don't, uh? Aren’t you a teacher at Taxila now, angel? Don’t you have pupils?’

‘Well, sometimes, but actually I’m the librarian. Asoka here has taken me to teach him, but normally I’m surrounded only by manuscripts,’ Aziraphale said.

Crawly narrowed her eyes.

‘This is your assignment, right? The reason you are still in India,’ she asked.

‘What do you mean, dear?’

‘Stop calling me that! I’m not dear to you!’ She stood up threatenly. ‘Heaven sent you to keep an eye on him, isn’t it? Why? Why is Heaven interested in Asoka?’

‘I-I, uh, I don’t know what you mean,’ Aziraphale took a couple of steps backwards. ‘I’m on no mission, I was just at Taxila when…’

‘Liar,’ Crawly said, and turned around to grab a couple of glasses and an empty plate. ‘Here. What do you want to drink? Miracle your own, will you?’

‘Oh, uh, right, sure,’ the angel said. They sat down on the mat. The angel miracled some of his favourite sweets he remembered from 25 years before. He was about to turn to his glass, when he looked at Crawly.

She was brooding. A dark cloud had come over her golden eyes. Her mind was obviously elsewhere, since she hadn’t criticised his choice of food. What was she worried about? Was it about him? Indeed Heaven had ordered him to watch Asoka. After Chandragupta’s abdication, he had left the capital to get to know the country better. He ended up at Taxila, a city he enjoyed not only because of the weather, the kindness of its people and an abundance of books, but also because it was close to the border with the Greeks and had an easy access to wine and other foods he had really missed. Heaven had told him to keep an eye on Bindusara’s son, but he had so many and he hadn’t known which one — Aziraphale decided that the thing could wait a little, after all, the children were still very young, what could they do of interest? Once they were older, he would go back to the capital. He had delayed his return year after year when Asoka arrived to crush the insurrection, and the angel realised he was the one.

‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked, trying to cheer Crawly. A sulking demon was terrible company. ‘In Taxila I got to know some very good Greek wines. I can replicate them, if you like.’

‘Hm,’ Crawly focused her eyes back to Aziraphale. She saw the angel smiling and couldn’t help but sigh.

‘Wine it is, angel.’

After some minutes of silent drinking, Aziraphale said:

‘You’re right, I have an assignment. But I know that so do you. You have been in this city longer than me. What is it?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? This,’ she extended her arms in a circle. ‘This entire thing, this empire thing. My bosses are very interested in getting it to thrive to its fullest capacity.’

‘Oh!’ the angel was surprised. ‘So do mine.’

‘Wait, do you mean that both Heaven and Hell want the empire to continue ruling the subcontinent?’ Crawly asked.

‘Well, so it seems!’ Aziraphale smiled. ‘I’m not supposed to discuss my orders but… I’m here to make sure the empire grows and that Asoka is the next emperor.’

‘Wow, those are exactly my orders too,’ Crawly said. They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. 

‘Let’s drink to the empire of Asoka!’ Crawly said.

‘Cheers!’ and they drank happily with relief.

At that moment, Queen Subhadrangi entered the room in a storm, followed by a gloomy Asoka. The frown on his forehead suggested that something serious had happened. Crawly immediately miracled the wine into water and then took the queen in her arms.

‘What's wrong?’ she asked the desolate woman. ‘What happened, Asoka?’

Aziraphale was still sitting down, dumbfounded.

‘My father called us all to declare Sushima the crown prince,’ Asoka explained. 

Crawly and Aziraphale exchanged meaningful looks. The queen was trying hard to recover and to breathe normally, but she was racked by sobs of pain.

‘Sushima!’ Crawly exclaimed. ‘I told you long ago, didn’t I? That you had to crush your brothers into submission. Now Sushima will be king, and you? What will you be once he gets the crown? And your poor mother? What will her position in the palace be now that Sushima’s mother has the chief position?’

Asoka was not pleased with Crawly’s words, but said nothing.

‘What will you do about it, uh?’ Crawly kept at it, her tone growing darker and more menacing with every syllable. ‘I bet you will do nothing but moan and complain, like when you were a little child. This is what we took care of you for? Prepared you for? For you and your mother to be servants at the stables?’

Asoka was now bordering indignation. Aziraphale thought that Crawly was being unnecessarily harsh with the young man, who after all was hardly 19. He decided to intervene.

‘Asoka, don’t listen to Crawly. Look, your father must have very valid reasons to appoint your brother Sushima as heir. Isn’t he your eldest brother?’ Aziraphale said as soothingly as possible.

‘Half-brother!’ Asoka said.

‘Well, one has to respect his half-brothers too, Asoka. There is no difference between a brother, a half-brother, a cousin or a friend,’ the angel said. ‘Listen, your father probably thinks that since Sushima is the eldest, he has more experience and knowledge of life and therefore that is why he will make a good emperor.’

‘Ha!’ Crawly interrupted. ‘Sushima, experience? Knowledge? Of the women’s quarters, for sure. Has he ever been sent on duty like you, Asoka? No. Has he ever excelled in battle? No. He is unworthy of the throne, and you know it. Sushima is nothing compared to you! You should kill him, and the throne will be yours.’

‘No! No! Asoka, listen to me,’ Aziraphale pleaded, aghast. ‘Sushima is your brother, half-brother, but it’s family, you share the same blood, you can’t possibly murder him! This is madness!’

‘Shut up, mleccha!’ Asoka was on the brink.’You have just arrived at the capital and the palace and you know nothing of its politics, nor of me or my family, nor of Sushima. Because you are a teacher I will do nothing against you, but if you say anything else in support of Sushima, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself. You’ve been warned.’

That shut up Aziraphale for good. Crawly smiled with triumph. She was about to deliver her final fiery speech when another messenger arrived at the door.

‘Prince Asoka, a message from your father!’ the boy said.

‘Deliver it!’

‘Prince Asoka, you are from now on viceroy of Ujjain. The entire province will be under your surveillance and responsibility. You are to depart immediately. Do send notice once you arrive there. Word has been sent you are on your way. Godspeed!’ The boy repeated the message word by word.

Aziraphale smiled relieved.

‘Viceroy at Ujjain! Well, Asoka dear, congratulations!’ The angel said as if the previous quarrel had never happened.

Asoka was still unhappy, but a bit less so. 

‘Mother, have you heard? I’m viceroy at Ujjain! I’m to depart immediately. I take my leave from you, mother,’ he said. ‘As soon as I arrive and set up everything there, I’ll call for you to visit me. And you too, Crawly.’

His mother nodded, still sobbing and unable to talk. Crawly talked for her.

‘Of course, my dear. Now, go. This is a position in which you can show your father how wrong today’s decision has been.’

‘Exactly, and you won’t have to murder anyone,’ Aziraphale added. Crawly and Asoka both glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

‘Aziraphale, you’ll come with me,’ Asoka said. ‘Take a bath and some rest, we leave in one hour.’

‘Me? But I’ve just arrived! I haven’t been to the sweet shops yet!’ the angel protested, but Asoka was already gone. He looked desolate, and sat back down on the mat. He badly needed some wine, but when he drank from his glass, he found that in it there was only water.

Crawly grinned at the angel, still holding the sobbing queen in her arms. 

***

Crawly and Subhadrangi didn’t get news from Asoka and/or Aziraphale any time soon, despite the prince’s promise. They feared something had happened at Ujjain, but the king refused to send anyone, claiming all his envoys were engaged. Fed up with the lack of news, Crawly decided to pay a visit to Ujjain and see what was going on with her own eyes.

So one night she miracled herself in Aziraphale’s apartments. They were empty, and seemed to have been so for some days. Taken aback, Crawly roamed about the palace, looking for someone to ask the many questions that racked up her brain. Before she could find anyone, she heard distinct noises of swords clanking and men shouting. A battle was raging at the palace grounds. Rushing to a window, she could see the distant glow of fire in the city and the men fighting just below. She tried to locate where Asoka was, and when she couldn’t, she looked for Aziraphale, who she could easily sense. Yes, there he was, hiding behind a barricade, by Asoka’s side.

The prince was directing his soldiers against the rebel army, bow in hand. From his standpoint he had a good view of the battleground, but hers was much better. They could use some help, she thought, and changing her appearance to that of a royal soldier, his hair covered by a crimson turban, Crawly went down the stairs to meet them.

‘Majesty, we aren’t winning. May I suggest a course of action?’ Crawly told Asoka with a bow of his head.

‘Who are you? I don’t know you.’ The prince frowned.

Aziraphale stood up in amazement and opened his mouth to shout Crawly’s name, when an arrow swiftly flew by his ear, making him sunk again behind the barricade.

‘Oh, you do, sir, I’m the captain of your royal guard, remember?’ Crawly blinked. Asoka’s face changed into one of recognition.

‘Of course! In this darkness I couldn’t recognise you. What do you suggest again?’

‘Archers. First floor. Shoot arrows on fire. After some minutes, ask for a truce and make a speech. This time they will support you.’ Crawly blinked again, and that was all the convincing Asoka needed.

While Asoka signalled his archers the instructions, Aziraphale stood up again and grabbed Crawly’s arm.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, gesturing excitedly with his free hand. ‘Do you have anything to do with this?’

‘Yes, I have everything to do with helping you win. What have _you_ been doing? You promised to send a message once you arrived in Ujjain. Couldn’t you even get that done?’ 

‘I didn’t promise anything, as far as I can remember,’ the angel said. ‘We met some opposition when we arrived, and we’ve been busy dealing with it, as you may have noticed.’

‘I’ve noticed Asoka has been busy, but what about you? You could have prevented all this.’

‘I can’t miracle everything! There is paperwork, you know?’

‘Hey, you two, stop the chatter! Captain, go back to your position! Aziraphale, get inside, otherwise you’ll get hurt,’ Asoka shouted. 

‘Meet me on the first floor. We need to talk,’ Crawly whispered to Aziraphale before going separate ways.

Asoka’s new strategy proved efficient. Soon the enemy soldiers were driven away by the flaming arrows. A scattered army was no opponent for the imperial forces. Aziraphale and Crawly watched Asoka call the truce as the captain of his guard - or so he believed - had suggested. 

‘What happened here, angel?’ the demon asked.

‘The arrival of Asoka in Ujjain aggrieved some local ministers who had been hoping for a promotion. After all, Asoka is very young and a stranger to the province, how could they trust him? Asoka followed my advice and tried to win the ministers’ hearts with words and gifts, instead of killing them as his instinct told him to. He succeeded, partially, but it all resulted in the division of Ujjain’s court and population. Some ministers plotted against his life, and all failed miraculously I must say, until finally there was the insurrection you have seen. It’s been going on for five days.’

‘Look, he’s going to speak’.

Asoka had walked to the middle of the battleground, climbed on top of some debris and started his speech. Crawly and Aziraphale couldn’t hear anything of what he said, but they could see flocks of soldiers approaching to listen to Asoka. Soon a crowd surrounded him and cheered him. The ministers who had kindled the revolt were brought to him in chains. The prince was lifting his sword to strike them down when he suddenly seemed to deflate, and rolled down to the ground.

‘Let’s go!’

Both the angel and the demon run downstairs to where the prince lay unconscious. He had been wounded during battle: his shoulder was bleeding, and had been for some time, until he had lost too much blood to continue. One of the ministers who had been about to be executed when Asoka fainted, kneeled begging for his life:

‘Please, don’t kill me! I know a place where the prince can be saved. If you let me live I’ll tell you where it is!’

Crawly grabbed him by the throat: ‘What are you waiting for? Speak up!’

‘The-there is a-a buddhist mo-monastery… the nuns can heal him…’

‘Great. You’ll lead the way. If the prince doesn’t survive, you’ll be killed. If he does survive, he’ll decide what to do with you’, Crawly turned around. ‘Take them, quickly!’ he ordered the soldiers. ‘Angel, here’.

Taking Aziraphale aside, he whispered: ‘Go with them. I know your orders don’t include encouraging killing, but you could have prevented all this. Can I trust you won’t let him die?’

‘Of course! You won’t believe me but I did everything in my hand to avoid this uprising. Humans are too stubborn,’ the angel protested.

‘Just like you. Anyway, I have to go now. This time, remember to send news over.’

The demon was gone before Aziraphale could say anything else.

***

Aziraphale honoured the promise he didn’t have time to make to Crawly, and sent over news of Asoka’s state as soon as he had some good news to send. The Queen was struck by hearing about the rebellion and the battle, and Crawly pretended to be as astonished as her. She had a hard time hiding her impatience to know the real news for her: was Asoka still alive? What had Aziraphale been up to? She got her answers about Asoka’s health soon enough, but none about the angel.

‘Young man,’ she said to the envoy once he had finished. ‘There is a fair foreigner, advisor to the viceroy, have you seen him?’

‘The gora? Yes, he is the one who sent me here. He’s staying at the monastery too.’

‘Crawly dear, don’t tell me finally a man has stolen your heart?’ the Queen asked in amazement.

‘Oh, no, no, no, NO, this _isn’t_ what you…’

‘I didn’t think it was possible! Now that you mention him, I remember you had a strong reaction when my son brought him here…’

‘I was just wondering, since he is Asoka’s teacher, if he’s still by his side in this crisis.’

‘I understand my dear, you want to know if he is someone dependable, someone you can trust, isn’t it?’ the Queen said to a blushing Crawly, whose reply was to cover her face with the long end of her saree.

***

News bearers came and went regularly now between Pataliputra and Ujjain, with news of Asoka’s recovery and of his policies for the province. Subhadrangi was always happy to hear about her son, although not all news was of her liking. There was one piece of news the last messenger had brought to the capital that particularly unsettled her: Asoka had fallen in love with one of the Buddhist nuns who had nursed him to health, and he had married her.

How could a well-bred Hindu prince, the only son of the Mauryan emperor to a Brahmin mother, marry a Buddhist girl without his parents approval, was beyond her and the emperor’s understanding. Bindusara had threatened to disinherit the boy, but Subhadrangi had talked him out of it, arguing the boy was ill when he married the Buddhist girl and therefore, he couldn’t have been mentally sound. As far as she was concerned, it was clearly an invalid marriage. The Queen was sure that once she talked to him, Asoka would repudiate the girl and marry a woman of their choosing. Hoping his wife to be correct, Bindusara summoned Asoka and his new daughter in law to the capital. 

Secretly, Subhadrangi instructed the envoy to call for the fair Greek teacher too, expecting to talk to him about Crawly. Where was the harm? After all, wasn’t she also Greek, from Seleucus court? She must have come to India when she was a little child, Subhadrangi thought. She promised herself she would ask Bindusara about Crawly next time. He must know much more about her origins. Somehow, she had a tendency to forget about Crawly whenever she met her husband.

The newlyweds arrived in the capital with a huge number of armed soldiers, elephants and horses that were part of the royal parade. Asoka came as a winning general, and the citizens were highly impressed at the splendour of the display. His half-brothers were jealous. The emperor, however, didn’t have time for minutiae.

Bindusara, with his chief queen and Subhadrangi side by side, sat in the audience hall. Crawly hid in a corner. She hadn’t been invited, but she went in disguised as a small serpent to make sure no one would ever notice her. There were no chants and no flowers when Asoka and his bride, Devi, arrived. Behind them, a small party of soldiers and Aziraphale came in.

Bindusara stood up while Asoka touched his feet. Devi did the same gesture, but Bindusara moved away before she could touch him. He started pacing the hall, looking at them in silence. No one dared to say anything for a while. Asoka and Devi exchanged glances, and the prince tried to make eye contact with his mother, but she looked down the entire time.

‘I just have one question for you: why?’ The emperor finally said.

‘Why what, Father?’ asked Asoka.

‘How do you dare feign ignorance? What are you, an idiot? Haven’t you learned anything about tradition and custom?’ Bindusara lashed out.

‘Subhadrangi spoiled the child. It’s obvious she didn’t teach him anything,’ said Sushima’s mother.

‘I didn’t teach him to disrespect his parents!’ Subhadrangi replied. ‘My son was injured in battle, he was ill, alone and confused, surrounded by strangers.’

‘He doesn’t have backbone at all, does he?’

‘Stop it, women!’ Bindusara said. ‘Son, I admit I never had much expectations about you. But I never expected you to marry without my permission and that to a Buddhist! If you wanted to be rid of royal responsibility, you have definitely succeeded.’

‘What? You still have a son because Devi saved my life when I was dying,’ Asoka said.

‘I have many sons,’ the emperor said.

‘And where are they? Most are eating away the imperial treasury doing nothing, while I fight for you to maintain your empire together. Why did you send me to Taxila? And to Ujjain? Why didn’t you send Sushima instead?’

Bindusara’s chief queen didn’t like the attack on her son and started wailing loudly, as if Sushima had been killed by Asoka’s words. Her cries made it difficult for Crawly to hear anything. She decided to move away from the throne towards Asoka’s party. She crawled to Aziraphale’s feet, who luckily looked down to see what had touched his feet before stepping on it. 

‘Crawly! I hadn’t seen you like this for millenia!’ 

‘Shhh…’

‘Can you speak a bit louder? I can’t hear you with all this racket going on.’

‘Shhh…’ Crawly climbed up Aziraphale’s leg, and he took her in his hand.

‘What?’

‘We need to solve this.’

‘We? Well, I don’t think there’s a “we”, except in the phrase “we’re enemies”’, Aziraphale said gravely.

‘Yess, yess, enemiess, but with a common goal this particular time -- sso may _we_ make an exception?’ Crawly hissed. ‘If this meeting goes awry, Asoka won’t be emperor, and we, yes, we both would have failed in our respective assignments.’

‘You see, I don’t really understand what’s the problem with this marriage,’ the angel said.

‘Well, me neither, but you do understand they don’t like it, right? What else is there to understand? We have to do something.’

‘Any ideas?’

‘You won’t like them.’

A different loud cry diverted their attention from their conversation to what was actually happening at the hall. Devi was hiding behind Asoka, who had his arms wide open. Subhadrangi was holding Bindusara’s feet and the loud cry was hers. The emperor’s angry face was softening.

‘It’s only one wife, he can have many, like you do! Give him a chance. He’s barely 20 years old!’ Subhadrangi cried. ‘Let him marry a wife you choose and send them all back to Ujjain.’

Bindusara looked around the room. The priests that were sitting in a row by the wall all nodded in silence. One of them stood up and approached the emperor, whispering something in his ear. Bindusara nodded and the priest went back to his seat.

‘Fine. Tomorrow you’ll marry a princess from a kingdom I intend to subdue. Hopefully this union will take us closer to attaching that land to mine. You can all stay at Ujjain. But I warn you, I will only recognise the children you’ll have with this second wife, and not from that Buddhist. This meeting is over.’

Bindusara left promptly, followed by Sushima’s mother, and leaving Subhadrangi on the floor. The priests started the preparations for the wedding. Asoka kneeled to help his mother stand up.

‘I am sorry, Mother.’

‘You, idiot!’ she said, sobbing and hugging him.

He helped her out of the hall. Devi, the soldiers and Aziraphale, still holding Crawly in her snake form, followed him. On the other side of the door, Sushima was waiting, leaning on a column, surrounded by his loyal gang of supporting brothers.

‘Asoka, my brother, have you been disinherited already?’ he asked.

‘Shut up, Sushima.’

‘The old man has gone softer, but I haven’t. If he hasn’t disinherited you, I will. Soon.’

‘You’re a vulture. But the higher you fly, the harder you will fall.’

‘Is that a threat, dear brother?’

‘Nothing but the truth,’ replied Asoka.

‘How dare you speak like that to the legitimate heir! You’re nothing but dust.’

‘Do you want to see how I turn you to dust?’

‘Oh, no,’ Crawly hissed to Aziraphale. ‘This is not good. If Asoka kills him now, he will be exiled forever!’

‘What can we do?’ the angel said. If she weren’t a snake, Crawly would have smiled at the angel’s slip of the tongue.

‘Put me on the floor. Leave this to me.’ 

Aziraphale did so. The demon crawled towards Sushima while the argument between the brothers heated up. Stealthily, she went up to Sushima’s left foot and bit him. A non-poisonous bite, but hard enough for him to shout in pain.

‘Are you all right?’ Subhadrangi asked, always a mother first. But Sushima ran, or rather jumped, away. Aziraphale followed how the demon snake disappeared into the shadows. Where would she go?

Aziraphale tried to follow Crawly, but Asoka got hold of him first. 

‘Help me take Devi and my mother to her quarters,’ he said, in his usual commanding voice. Aziraphale obeyed, helping the Queen put one foot after the other. She was holding on him rather tightly to his waist, which was making the angel extremely uncomfortable. Once they arrived at her quarters, he was more relieved than any one of them.

Moreover, Crawly was sitting there waiting in her black saree, as if she hadn’t been a snake half an hour earlier.

‘Oh Crawly dear, you wouldn’t believe what happened. It was terrible, right my dear son? Appalling,’ the Queen said.

‘May I guess your husband was extremely angry, Asoka’s replies made him livid, they had an argument, Sushima’s mother felt insulted and she cried her heart out, and you ended up at your husband's feet pleading him to have Asoka marry again?’ Crawly said quickly, trying to avoid hearing the entire story again.

‘That is exactly what happened!’ Subhadrangi was shocked. ‘News travels fast, doesn't it?’

‘Yes, Lakshmi came around not long ago and told me everything.’

‘Oh, that girl, always minding everyone else’s business but her own!’

Devi looked at her husband clearly uncomfortable and upset. Asoka noticed and they talked for a minute, before he turned to his mother.

‘Mother, I know Father has many sons, but you only have two, and you would have only one if it hadn’t been for Devi here. I owe her my life, and so do you,’ Asoka said. ‘I beg you to accept her as your daughter-in-law.’

Subhadrangi’s face changed. She looked more tired than ever, and graver than ever Crawly had seen her, and she had known her for over 20 years.

‘Look, son, she may have saved your life, but I gave birth to you. So mind your words about owing your life to someone. Of course I am grateful to her, or to any Buddhist nun who had a hand in nursing you back to health. But you should have considered that there is a difference between duty to someone to whom you owe a favour, even if that person is as beautiful as this girl here, and duty to your parents. It is my fault that I didn’t stress enough the traditions of our ancestors in your education. I am to blame for your mistakes, as you are young, temperamental and unwise. That is why you should let your parents choose for you a proper wife. Now you’re blinded by love and desire, but mark my words, your relationship won’t last. A lion doesn’t get married to a heron. At best, he devours her. And that’s what will happen to you, slender girl.’

No one said another word.

***

The uneasiness of the day before continued over the next day. Asoka’s wedding was going to happen, and although it wasn’t exactly a happy occasion, everyone tried their best to pretend it was. Even Asoka tried to, after calming down Devi, who had spent most of the night crying. She stayed in a room alone the entire ceremony. Crawly assisted the Queen with the wedding preparations, while Aziraphale looked at it all as if he were a tourist.

‘Is this your first Indian wedding?’ Crawly asked. She had seen too many to count.

‘Well, I was at Asoka’s and Devi’s wedding. But it was a Buddhist wedding, now that I think of it, because it looked nothing like this!

There was an altar decorated with luscious flowers and the most exuberant plants Aziraphale had ever seen. In the center of it, a fire blaze and priests chanted endlessly. A soldier arrived with the bride, who was wearing a red saree which covered her from head to toe. Her name, they were told, was Kaurwaki, and she was from Kalinga, a neighbouring independent kingdom. No one could see her properly, although Crawly got a glimpse of her very long and thick plaited black hair. She was short and thin, and walked softly, as if her feet didn’t touch the earth. Bride and groom sat down in front of each other, the fire between them. 

Although the ceremony was long, Asoka went along with it without a single complaint. Subhadrangi, who was looking at a distance, took the chance to approach Aziraphale.

‘Are you married?’ she asked, to the point.

‘Well… er, no,’ he said, hoping the Queen wouldn’t hold him by the waist again.

‘Why? You’re getting too old to marry,’ she advised him like a mother would. ‘You seem an easy-going, simple man. Married life should be easy for you.’

‘Ah, yes? I wouldn’t really know…’

‘You could marry today, you know? After my son’s ceremony. All is ready, I am sure the priest won’t refuse me.’

‘What?’ 

The Queen couldn’t help but giggle. This mleccha was so amusing. ‘I am sure your fellow countrymen and women get married to. Why are you so shocked at my suggestion? How old are you?’

‘Uh… er,’ Old? Thousands, millions of years old. This conversation had to stop, Aziraphale thought.

‘Oh, don’t be shy… 45? 50? You’re too old already. Well, not for the bride I have in mind. You see, she’s also a bit special about marriage, love and all that. But I know you have stolen her heart! I had started to think Crawly didn’t have a heart, but then she has always asked so eagerly about you, who wouldn’t notice!’

Aziraphale stood gaping, trying to grasp the poor woman’s concept. Crawly, a heart? There she was, her golden eyes beaming, wearing a silk black saree with a golden brocade and golden blouse, signalling him and the Queen to come closer to the altar. Only a few rituals were left.

‘Oh, I’ve got to go, it’s my turn now. I haven’t done these rituals before you know, my other son is still unmarried… We’ll continue talking later,’ she said, leaving in a hurry.

‘Oh, no. I don’t think so.’ Aziraphale muttered to himself. His eyes followed the Queen and Crawly until they turned their attention away, and then he vanished.

***

Years went by without much change. Bindusara’s health started failing him, and Sushima started getting impatient. The entire court could feel his impatience, which made a tense atmosphere loom over Pataliputra. Sushima would never say it openly, but he couldn’t understand why his father wouldn’t just abdicate, retire to the woods and let him reign. Hadn’t he declared him heir to the empire years ago? Had his father started to question that decision? Wasn’t he the eldest son? The throne was lawfully his! 

Crawly could sense his ambitious feelings spill over the palace. She had been right about Sushima, as she had been about Bindusara - the heir’s heart was darker than any of his brothers’. He was frivolous, moody, selfish and cruel. Why Hell preferred Asoka was something she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t going to try to change their minds. This assignment had been nice for a change, and she had taken a fondness for the boy, as she liked to call him. She didn’t want it all to end.

What she didn’t know — yet — was that Hell was equally anxious about Sushima’s ambitious aspirations. Beelzebub was preparing for Armageddon by learning from the best warriors: humans. From the Greeks, the Persians, the Chinese, the Indians — they observed and learned from every warfaring civilization. Asoka’s bloodline had shown a terrifying capacity, thus they had dispatched Crawly to the Mauryan Empire before it even existed to ensure their dominion of the land for centuries. A strong and sanguinary emperor was what they thought the empire needed to continue. Now, all their plans were endangered by Sushima’s desire and Bindusara’s blindness. This assignment may have been too much for Crawly, they thought. She had always done great work so far, perhaps a reminder of the importance of the task was all she needed.

Said and done. One winter morning, while Crawly was playing _ashtapada_ with some maids under the warming sun rays which felt wonderful after the morning bath, all four girls suddenly froze in the middle of their laughter. Beelzebub emerged behind Crawly:

‘Hail Satan!’ barked the Prince of Hell.

‘Hail’ said Crawly, half-heartedly. She turned around. ‘Long time no see.’

‘I came to check on you. Your reports are impressive, as usual. Nevertheless, there’s one detail regarding your assignment that concerns us greatly.’ 

‘And that is…?’

‘Asoka isn’t the emperor yet, and it seems he never will be. Sushima has been declared the legitimate heir. Asoka is practically an outcast. Is this all part of your plan, is this a complete mess, or do you have a trump card you haven’t told us about?’

‘Asoka will be emperor, in time,’ the demon said in her most convincing voice.

‘I think you need to reassure me with an elaboration of your plans,’ said Beelzebub.

‘Oh, of course, my - plan…’ Crawly grinned. ‘My plan is...it has been this from the beginning! I-I made sure Bindusara declared his eldest son heir so Asoka will take the throne by force causing more pain and despair. Just wait and see.’

‘Hmm.’ The Prince of Hell crossed their arms. ‘You may be lying, but then you’re a demon. What was I expecting when I asked you? You’d better make it happen, no matter the cost.’

‘Of course, Majesty.’ Crawly bowed.

‘Make it happen soon. I expect a full report,’ they said, and they were gone.

‘Crawly, Crawly! It’s your turn!’ The maids were again breathing and laughing, but the demon couldn’t smile back.

***

Crawly spent the next few days brooding anxiously about what she could do about Sushima and Asoka, who was still at Ujjain. Too far away from the capital to influence the politics of the empire. She had to bring him back, get him a position in Pataliputra. But, how?

Meanwhile, Sushima’s mother, who could never forget an insult, remembered Asoka’s last words keenly: “Why didn’t you send Sushima?”, he had asked his father, the emperor. Indeed, Bindusara had never sent Sushima to any military or political assignment. It was a disgrace that allowed malicious gossip to blossom and spread. Therefore, she insisted to her husband that Sushima had to be sent in a political position to an important place for the empire. A place like Taxila, the city that connected the Mauryan empire with Asia and Europe. It would be good for public opinion. So Sushima was sent to Taxila as the new governor, accompanied by the best and most trusted general, Khallataka, and by his most trusted advisor, Radhagupta, to aid him and help him settle down.

In Taxila, however, Sushima hadn’t been welcomed. As soon as he arrived, he earned the aversion of its citizens. A general rebellion sparked off, so fast that even Radhagupta, who was an expert at politics, was at a loss. 

When this news arrived in the capital, Crawly sensed something off in the entire thing. She didn’t have a great opinion of Sushima but even he couldn’t have ignited an insurrection so quickly. What could he have done to cause such an affront among the locals? 

It wasn’t until she went to the market that evening that she understood what her instinct had tried to tell her in the morning. Everyone was talking openly about how Asoka had to be sent to quell the revolt, just as he had done years ago, and how it had been a preposterous idea to send anyone but the man who had managed those proud Taxilans so well as governor. Hadn’t Ujjain flourished under Asoka’s guidance? He was certainly efficient and beloved by his subjects. What had Sushima done to deserve the position at Taxila? This talk spread like wildfire across the city. And if it had arrived in Pataliputra, it had certainly arrived at every place between Taxila and the capital. 

That was it. The answer she had been looking for. This could bring Asoka to the capital again, and this time for good. And who could have caused the revolt, if not someone as interested as her in Asoka, someone who had lived there long enough to be well known and respected in Taxila? It had to be him. Aziraphale.

The plan was brilliant, the demon admitted. She wouldn’t have thought of such a ploy. When the angel disappeared, she thought Heaven had assigned him some other mission, giving up on Asoka after the marriage disgrace. But no, he had a well devised plan for years that involved becoming an important social figure in a key place for the empire, then a loved mentor for the young king, and then the leader of a revolution that would cause the fall of the heir and the rise of Asoka. The last part of the revolution wasn’t really Aziraphale’s style, encouraging fighting and all, but Crawly knew well that it wasn’t beyond Heaven’s morals to start a war, if they thought they were right — she definitely couldn’t take the credit.

Crawly had to see it with her own snake eyes, though. If what she thought was true, the angel deserved at least a treat to a bottle of wine. His plan had saved her from the punishment of failure. A very good wine indeed.

That night pretended to go to sleep particularly early, and miracled herself in Taxila’s university library, where she expected to find Aziraphale. The angel didn’t disappoint her: there he was, sitting cross legged on a mat, delicately caressing an old papyrus with hieroglyphics. Crawly tilted her head, smiled and from the depths of her black saree produced a small amphora with red wine. The rustle of the fabric woke Aziraphale from his Egyptian reverie. 

‘Crawly!’ he said, turning around and smiling. ‘What an unexpected visit!’

‘I’ve brought wine,’ she said walking towards him and sitting on the mat.

‘What are you celebrating?’ The angel asked.

‘Me? _We_ are celebrating,’ Crawly miracled two earthen cups. ‘Here, let’s drink to our future emperor Asoka, and to the many commendations we’ll receive from our respective head offices.’

Aziraphale squinted and looked nervously alternating between Crawly and the cup being filled with wine. They raised their cups and drank. Crawly laughed heartily until she noticed Aziraphale wasn’t doing the same.

‘What’s wrong with you? Or is it the wine? You don’t like it, don’t you?’ she asked, sipping the wine again to check whether she had miracled her best.

‘Oh no, the wine is fine. Full-bodied and... I think I can taste berries,’ the angel said earnestly.

‘Then?’

‘Last time I checked, Asoka wasn’t the emperor so…’

‘But, angel, your plan is going to work! It’s brilliant!’ Crawly exclaimed.

‘Sorry, “my plan”?’

Then it hit the demon that the mastermind behind a revolution that had made Taxilans rise against their governor, who happened to be the crown prince, wouldn’t be alone in a derelict building reading an old manuscript.

He took another sip to digest the realisation.

‘I don’t know how I could believe this was all _your_ plan!’ Crawly said. ‘It seemed perfectly designed but I guess it is a mere human coincidence.’

Aziraphale looked at the demon shyly from the edge of the cup. ‘What did you think was my plan?’ 

‘Taxilans rebelling against Sushima as soon as he stepped on this land. People all around the empire are murmuring about how Asoka should have been sent as governor instead. I thought you spurred certain feelings so that Bindusara would reconsider. I’ve got a visit from... you know, downstairs, demanding explanations as to why my assignment hadn’t been completed yet, given my impressive reports on the matter… I tell you, I was going mad thinking how could I influence the emperor and the entire court so as to bring Asoka back and you know, do something about the entire thing when I heard the rumours about what was going on here… I know you were here before and certainly when I found you here I was so sure it has to be your doing. And I thought you were brilliant! But you don’t even know what I’m talking about!’

‘Well, my dear, now I know what you’re talking about.’ Upon hearing the word “dear”, Crawly shuddered. ‘I definitely couldn’t have masterminded such an elaborate plan, for a start, I had nothing to do with sending Sushima here,’ said Aziraphale. ‘I may have had something to do with eager animosity displayed by Taxilans… you see, I told them Sushima can’t read.’

‘Really? You think that is why they hate him?’

‘Taxilans are fairly proud of being a city of learning and centre of knowledge.’

‘Can Asoka read?’ Crawly asked.

‘I started teaching him but he would rather read in his own language than in a foreign one. Last time I tried, he mentioned he would invent a script that truly represented his language so that he could read and write something everyone could understand,’ Aziraphale said.

‘Fascinating. I didn’t know he had any interest beyond governance, war and women. So, did you tell Taxilans Asoka can read?’

‘Oh, no, I don’t need to tell them anything. They remember him fondly from the time he spent here. It’s a natural human feeling, I believe, to like someone already known better than someone who is still a stranger.’

‘Hm. You may be right,’ Crawly mused. ‘So what I thought was your brilliant plan was just normal human behaviour, with you incidentally in the mix, wasn’t it? Let’s drink to that too,’ she raised her cup and drank the rest of the wine.

‘Crawly. Did you really think I was brilliant?’ 

‘I have to admit I did.’

Aziraphale smiled, raised his cup and drank it up. Crawly refilled the cups.

‘Let’s celebrate anyway. To humans!’

They both drank the wine with a smile.

*** 

It didn’t take long for the rumours to reach Bindusara’s ears. He was furious to hear about Sushima’s inability to control a territory, and also to hear that everyone thought he had made a mistake. Trying to do some damage control, he immediately recalled Sushima and his entourage, and sent word to Asoka in Ujjain that he must go to Taxila to quell the uprising. 

Sushima returned humiliated. His own men laughed at his back, and so did the rest of the citizens of the empire. His own parents were ashamed of him, and it took a toll on Bindusara’s health, which took a turn for the worse due to all the stress he felt. He was bedridden since the day Sushima arrived back in Pataliputra.

His own ministers and advisors, such as Kallataka and Radhagupta, suggested declaring Asoka the crown prince instead of Sushima, based as much on his success as leader, general and governor, as well as on the latter’s unpopularity. Sushima was enraged when he learnt what the court ministers were saying openly to everyone who wanted to listen. Bindusara died before he could change his will.

News of the emperor’s death was sent to every corner of the empire. It was Sushima who lit the pyre. The very next day he asked to be crowned emperor, but the ministers refused, arguing it was too early to celebrate a crowning ceremony. Sushima and his followers realised it was all a ploy to allow Asoka to arrive from Taxila. Surely he would come down to the capital now that Bindusara was dead.

Actually, Sushima was right in his suspicion. That was exactly the ministers’ plan: wait for Asoka to arrive and declare him emperor. But they didn’t understand the extent of Sushima’s vindictive nature - if they had, they would have pushed for Asoka to be crown prince much earlier. Sushima planned an attack on everyone at court who opposed him, and one night he sent his most loyal men to kill them. 

Crawly had been observing the slow changes in the palace atmosphere at a distance. Until Asoka arrived, there was nothing she could do, she thought. She was there at Bindusara’s funeral, comforting a shattered Subhadrangi. She was there, at the ministers’ refusal to crown Sushima emperor, watching him seethe with rage. She knew he would try something, but even a demon like Crawly couldn’t imagine the carnage she saw in the morning. Many times she would think that humans’ real power was their imagination, for both good and evil.

She woke up to the howls and wails of the women. The entire palace seemed to be in pain. She rushed to Subhadrangi’s quarters. The Queen was lying in a pool of blood, her throat slitted, her new white saree turned red as if she had just married again. Crawly thought she would be used by now to see women she cared for killed, but she was wrong. 

Subhadrangi hadn’t been the only dead queen. All widows of Bindusara, except Sushima’s mother, had been killed. That way, Sushima expected to reduce his brother’s claim to the throne. Ministers and priests, clerks and advisors, all those who didn’t support Sushima were dead. A few managed to escape, such as Radhagupta, who, Crawly had heard, had left for Taxila in hopes of finding Asoka that same night.

Even with no one to crown him emperor, Sushima decided to start his reign anyway, with his small group of supporters. He sat at the audience hall, put on his best suit, and waited for his subjects to come and give him gifts or ask favours. But no one came that day.

Neither did anyone the next day. Nor the next. For an entire week the city was like a ghost. 

At last, Asoka arrived on an elephant, followed by his army and by more people who had joined their party on their way to the capital. The minister Radhagupta was with them. All of them wore white in mourning for the dead emperor. They arrived at the palace grounds, expecting a welcoming ritual, but no one went there to receive them, except Crawly.

‘Crawly! Good to see you! Where’s my mother? Where’s everyone?’ Asoka asked.

‘My boy,’ Crawly started. ‘She’s… Sushima…’

‘What? Crawly?’

‘She’s dead. Everyone’s dead.’

Asoka’s eyes widened in horror. He looked around him in disbelief and ran towards his mother’s quarters. Radhagupta approached Crawly.

‘Please tell me everything you know.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> malai cream: Malai is a type of clotted cream, originating from the Indian subcontinent, used in the cuisine of the Indian subcontinent, especially, in regards to sweets from the Indian subcontinent.[1][2] It is made by heating non-homogenized whole milk to about 80 °C (180 °F) for about one hour and then allowing to cool. A thick yellowish layer of fat and coagulated proteins forms on the surface, which is skimmed off.[3] The process is usually repeated to remove most of the fat. (from Wikipedia)
> 
> Mount Kailash: Tibetan Buddhists call it Kangri Rinpoche; 'Precious Snow Mountain'. For Hindus, it is the home of the Hindu god Shiva and it is believed that Shiva resides there; for Jains it is where their first leader was enlightened; for Buddhists, the navel of the universe; and for adherents of Bon, the abode of the sky goddess Sipaimen. (from Wikipedia)
> 
> Bindusara: Bindu means dot in Hindi. According to Buddhist and Jain legends, Bindusara's "birth" is as described here, and he got the name from the drops of blood on his body. Those legends are actually a bit more gory, but I preferred to skip some stuff.
> 
> Gora: Hindi and Indo-Aryan word for Europeans or a light-skinned person.
> 
> Mleccha: meaning "non-Vedic", "barbarian".


	2. On hell

From that moment on, something inside Asoka snapped. The heinous murder of his mother, aunts and friends turned back on his worst insticts, those which Aziraphale with education and his wives with love had tried to teach him how to control. Realising the extent of the killing that had taken place in the palace, Asoka confronted Sushima and his party which included many of his other half-brothers. Crawly and Aziraphale followed him, scared of what he might do and at the same time scared of getting in between.

‘Sushima!’ Asoka roared, entering into the audience hall where his eldest brother waited for him. As usual, most of their brothers stood by the eldest one. Those who didn’t support him had fled or had been killed.

‘Little brother!’ Sushima replied, in a mocking voice. ‘I see you have come just in time for my coronation.’

‘You’re wrong. I have come in time for your funeral.’

Asoka drew his sword and took a fighting stance. Sushima laughed. Aziraphale froze, and Crawly clutched his arm and turned her face away.

‘Do you think you alone can beat all of us?’

‘Try me.’

Sushima waved his right hand. The group on his right pulled out daggers and moved forward towards Asoka, who didn’t change his position. He knew he was going to kill them all until he managed to kill Sushima. When they charged against him, daggers in hand, Asoka not only defended himself, but attacked them until they all lay down either dead or injured on the ground. The same fate awaited the group on Sushima’s left. When he signalled them to attack, half of them ran away instead to save their lives. 

The other half soon lay dead, unconscious or wounded. 

Asoka walked among the bodies towards Sushima, whose face had turned pale with fear. To his credit, both the angel and the demon thought, he stood up to face his younger brother.

‘Who is the killer now, Asoka?’ Sushima asked. ‘Or should I call you Chandasoka?’

‘Strange choice of last words, brother,’ he said. Then he thrust his sword into Sushima’s chest, and pushed him to the side so that he wouldn’t fall back where their father the emperor used to sit.

***

From then on, Asoka was known as Chandasoka, that is to say, Asoka the Terrible. Knowing that what he had done was a crime just like Sushima’s had been, Asoka refused to be crowned emperor until he had cleaned himself of the killing of his half-brothers and until he had gained the trust and love of all his subjects. He managed that in four years, in which his policies brought prosperity to the empire and extended his rule to new lands. However, in his mind he was set to punish those who committed abominable crimes. Finding the right way to punish them became his obsession.

In fact, Asoka was so hung up on it that he started devising a torture chamber for those deemed guilty of evil. Inspired by Buddhist stories of Hell he had heard from his wife Devi, Asoka drafted a plan for a building set with traps and tormenting machinery. People who had done evil would be punished by being pierced by hot irons, having pools of molten metal being poured on them, being burnt alive, impaled… The place was to be a nightmare. So that it wouldn’t stand out among the palace grounds however, the exterior design of this building was beautifully crafted. Architects and masons worked on it for years, day and night. Once the construction finished, Asoka executed them all.

He secretly named the torture chamber “Asoka’s Hell”. It was a gorgeous building, surrounded by a blooming garden of exquisite flowers and fountains of clear fresh water. Tall and carved in delicate filigrees, it had been made to look like a summer palace. Only the lack of windows betrayed its purpose to the trained eye. To most people, it looked like the loveliest place in the entire compound.

Despite his incredible efforts, there was one missing piece in his punitive puzzle. Asoka needed an executor, someone capable of delivering the most atrocious punishments, of inflicting terrible pain in unimaginable ways. Someone whose hand wouldn’t flinch when gouging someone’s eyes and then pouring boiling blood and faeces over what was left of the person.

Notice was sent to all corners of the empire that the emperor needed an executor. Many men came to apply for the role, but when they heard the descriptions of the kinds of deaths they would have to inflict on their victims, all of them refused. All, except one. Who he was and where had he come from were a mystery, and different theories proliferated regarding his real identity. The only thing that was certain was that he went by the name Girika. 

Girika had come into the audience hall one evening, many months into Asoka’s desperate search for an executor. He didn’t recoil when Asoka started detailing the sort of pain and torture and killing methods he expected him to perfom. 

‘That all sounds fine to me,’ Girika said. ‘But before accepting the job, I want the emperor to promise me one simple thing.’

‘What is it? If it is in my hand to promise it, it’s yours,’ Asoka said.

‘Promise me that everyone who enters the place will die.’ 

‘All those who step on it will die,’ Asoka promised.

***

Down in the actual Hell, Beelzebub was delighted. There were only a couple of things the Prince of Hell didn’t really like. Number one, Asoka hadn’t killed his younger brother Vitasoka, who had fled the capital. Number two, armies and countries surrendered to him without a fight, which caused no suffering at all. Beelzebub thought it was their fault not having foreseen that all goodness hadn’t been extricated from Asoka’s heart. Crawly’s influence hadn’t been enough, that much was clear.

But the entire idea of the torture chamber, Asoka’s Hell, wasn’t it wonderful! Someone human fancied himself a demon! Beelzebub was so dazzled by Asoka’s torturing ambitions that they materialized on Earth to give Crawly a commendation in person. Beelzebub took the appearance of an ascetic. They wouldn’t bear to wear the kind of dresses and heavy jewels noble people were expected to wear. Instead, they smeared their body with ash, wore garments made out of tree bark and kept some flies around them.

When they arrived at the Imperial Court, everyone felt immediately awed and catered to their wishes. They asked to meet the Queens, but arranged to meet their attendant first. The Queens’ attendant had always been Crawly. Nobody had ever questioned it, since Asoka’s grandfather’s times.

‘Hail Satan!’, Beelzebub greeted Crawly.

‘Oh, it’s you!’, replied Crawly, her face partially covered by the long end of her saree. ‘What brings you down here, Prince Beelzebub?’

‘I’ve sent a note before I came. Didn’t you read it?’, they asked, annoyed.

‘Er, Devi has kept me busy oiling her hair… It’s very long’, Crawly said.

‘Actually, I have come to congratulate you on your demonic influence over Chandasoka. I was thrilled when I heard he had earned that nickname,’ Beelzebub explained. ‘What a great job you’ve done. He has killed millions, made more millions suffer, even his own family! And now he invents a Hell on Earth! And he wants to reign over it too! This has exceeded all our expectations. And to think that I had started doubting you!’ Beelzebub had inadvertently raised their voice, such was their excitement. Crawly noticed that some eyes had gathered at the door and windows to listen to the strange ascetic.

‘Oh, yes, the torture chamber...’, Crawly gestured Beelzebub to lower their voice.

‘Rumour has it that the design follows the description of the Buddhist Hell, Naraka,’ Beelzebub whispered. ‘I hadn’t thought that little corner would become so famous. It has some very good punishments, I reckon. How did you manage to get so close to him as to tell him all the details?’

‘Well… you know, I didn’t. I am the main attendant to the Queens, and one of them is a Buddhist, so...ah...’, Crawly said, looking around nervously.

‘So you reminded her about the stories, right? And made her tell him herself? What a brilliant idea. Asoka dislikes Buddhism, except the Hell part, it seems.’

‘So it seems.’

‘Do you think you can take me there? I would love to see its inner chambers’, Beelzebub asked. When the Prince of Hell asked for anything, one couldn’t say no. Crawly was no different.

‘Of course, your Royal Highness,’ Crawly said bowing. ‘But as a woman, I cannot be seen outside the women’s quarters without raising eyebrows. I can take you there under the cover of the night.’

‘We’ll meet at night here, then,’ Beelzebub said. ‘And, Crawly...’

‘Yes?’

‘Good job.’

***

That night, Crawly and Beelzebub met stealthily, covered in black shawls. Walking through the palace and gardens, the guards felt very sleepy whenever they came close. 

They arrived at the magnificent building that was the torture palace, Asoka’s Hell. Beelzebub stopped to admire its deceiving nature.

‘Is it true what I’ve heard, Crawly?’ they asked, curious. ‘About the executor.’

Crawly cringed at the mention of Girika. Her frightened look didn’t escape Beelzebub. He must be really something to even scare a demon, they thought.

‘Girika… Everything you might have heard of him is true, your Highness. That which is not said, is also true.’ Crawly’s voice quivered as she spoke.

‘Where did he come from? Did you have anything to do with his character?’

‘I’m afraid I didn’t,’ she admitted, but her voice didn’t sound sorry for her failure. ‘I was already in the Queens’ service when he appeared at the Imperial Court to demand the position of Executor.’

‘Sometimes, even among Her creation, a truly satanic soul is born. This Girika must be one of them.’ Beelzebub said thoughtfully. ‘So, it is true that he killed his family to apply for the position, isn’t it?’

‘That’s what people say.’

‘What a fellow. I shall be pleased to meet him. Let’s go, Crawly,’ the Prince of Hell couldn’t hide their enthusiasm. Crawly had never seen them as cheerful.

They arrived at the main entrance. Beelzebub noticed it was open.

‘It is to lure the unaware,’ explained Crawly, sensing her lord’s question. ‘This Hell isn’t just for those who deserve punishment.’

‘I see. Our Hell could benefit from torturers like this Girika.’ She gestured to Crawly to follow them and entered the building. ‘Come on, let’s see it with our own eyes.’

The interior was as glorious as the outside. A long corridor of marble floors, high carved walls with depictions of human figures up to the ceiling, torches every short interval to illuminate the carvings just enough. One had to stop and look attentively to see that all the humans depicted were suffering in incredible pain, in appalling styles of torture.

‘This is marvellous!’ Beelzebub exclaimed. ‘Crawly, isn’t this amazing? We can learn so much from humans.’ They stared, studying carefully the variety of forms of agony portrayed. ‘Crawly? Crawly?’

They called and looked around, but Crawly wasn’t there. Beelzebub didn’t notice a tall human figure approaching, not until he was just standing in front of them.

‘Welcome to Hell,’ said the man, without a smile. ‘I’m Girika, the master of this place.’

‘I’m...’, Beelzebub started, but Girika interrupted them.

‘Who you are is of no importance. Everyone who comes here dies,’ he said.

‘Everyone who comes here dies?’ they repeated, as if failing to grasp the meaning of the words.

‘Everyone.’

Beelzebub hadn’t died before. They didn’t really die, of course, but they were dreadfully discorporated. They had felt the pain in the human flesh of their material body. It hadn’t been pleasant. Even for a demon who had fallen for aeons and dived into a pool of smouldering sulphur, it had been painful.

Crawly, the bastard. One couldn’t trust the demon, they thought approvingly. Crawly had known all along what happened to those who came into the chamber, and she had fled as they entered the building. Well, it didn’t really matter. They had had a first hand experience of the place, learned new torturing strategies, and now they were back in Hell as usual.

Except, human years had passed, and things had changed on Earth in the meanwhile.

Asoka wasn’t any longer known as Chandasoka. Now he was Dhammasoka, and a Buddhist. He had tried to conquer the last piece of land in the subcontinent that remained beyond his grasp – the kingdom of Kalinga. He commanded the soldiers himself, and had taken his wife Devi and, Beelzebub guessed, her personal attendant. In Kalinga, Ashoka had spilled more blood than in all his previous battles together. He decimated the population, soldiers and civilians alike, even animals. The earth was soaked with blood and corpses covered everything the eye could see. His wife, Devi, had been so terrified she had fled – without her attendant. The morning after the battle, Asoka saw the sunset red with the blood he had spilled and the suffering he had imposed upon the land. The hand that held his sword quivered and he regretted everything.

He came back to the capital saddened with the burden of the bloodshed in Kalinga. Shortly afterwards, a Buddhist monk appeared in the city. He immediately drew everyone’s attention, because he was very fair and could always be found at Gupta’s sweetshop. One day, he mistook the torture chamber with the palace. Girika made him endure the worst tortures, but the monk remained unharmed. The news of the miracle reached the Emperor, and he himself entered the hell he had created to see it with his own eyes. Boiling water mixed with blood, excrement and poison was being poured over him, but the monk was floating midair in the lotus position, his pale moon face was absolutely peaceful, and from his body the filthy water came down purified.

Asoka, touched by the miracle, ordered Girika to stop and let the monk live. Girika reminded the Emperor of the promise he had made to him: that everyone who entered the building had to die.

‘You can’t kill him, don’t you see? It’s useless!’ Asoka protested.

‘I was talking about you, your Majesty’, Girika laughed.

‘Of course, dear Girika. But, I believe you’ve entered before me’, replied the emperor, and he slain Girika instantly.

Asoka told the monk he was free and asked for his forgiveness.

‘You will regret what you have done your entire life. In order to earn forgiveness, you have to destroy this place, build 84,000 stupas, guarantee the safety of all beings, humans and animals, refrain from any more killing, accept Buddha and follow Dharma’, said the monk.

Asoka obeyed him.

What happened to the Queens’ personal attendant? She left the empire, shortly after the Buddhist monk, never to be seen again. No one remembered her either.


End file.
